


we come back every time

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: (kind of), Angst, M/M, Songfic, time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael only wishes it ended like he always thinks it will</p>
            </blockquote>





	we come back every time

It was a dark night, the street lights not doing much to illuminate the pitch black roads, and Michael felt a pang of sickness settle into his stomach, staring out the window of his room from the second story of his parent's house. There was a sound of crickets outside, chirping loudly in the grass, and for a moment, he debates what he's about to do, debates with himself about the person currently driving to his home as he sat in his dimly lit room, waiting. He hears the engine of the old, blue Thunderbird before he ever saw the reverse lights come into view, the headlights off to avoid drawing attention from Michael's parents sleeping soundly downstairs. He watches the movement of the driver in the car, a hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair, and he feels his heart jump into his throat with a burning anxiety. Nothing felt right about this, and a sick deja vu settles into his chest.

He felt like he had seen this before.

Michael quietly descends the stairs, sneaking out the front door and locking it behind him, stuffing his house key into his pocket, before quickly making his way across the grass. The stagnant August was handing around him like a blanket, and despite the heat, he feels a chill run down his spine under his jacket. The driver looks over at him, and for a moment, he truly wondered if he should just call it quits, tell them to go home and go back upstairs, stay home like he was supposed to be doing. But he can see the slight shine of hair gel in slicked back golden brown locks, the blue eyes locking onto him, and the way that white shirt clings to his body in all the right ways, how it had been weeks since he heard from him, and Michael knows he can't say no. He'd never be able to say no. He jumps the door and settles himself into the seat, face burning red when lips brush against his cheek, and he pulls back, making a face. "Ryan-"

"I missed you," Ryan says and Michael feels his heart jolt. Anxiety or attraction? He didn't know. He'd never really know. "Sorry I haven't been around."

Michael watches him turn to the wheel, pulling the car out of park, and he sighs, shaking his head. "It's okay," he says. It's not. "I know how it is. College is soon. Summer doesn't last forever."

It went silent, and just by the way Ryan was holding the wheel, Michael could tell it was going to be a long drive; a lot to get off their chests, lots of things to talk about and discuss. Ryan was leaving the state next month for school, how was this going to work? It wasn't like they were ever an official thing to anyone outside of themselves. For a moment, Michael can see flames, and he quickly moves a hand to rub his eyes, ignoring the anxious feeling in his chest telling him to go back home, because something bad was going to happen tonight. He tried to push it back, feeling a calloused hand slide into his, his nerves like electricity under his skin. The road was still dark in front of them, headlights still off, the light light coming from the dashboard clock that read '11:55' in blocky, orange numbers, and Michael sighs, lacing his fingers with Ryan's, squeezing and closing his eyes. He figured there were two ways this could end, and he could only hope it went well, that the sinking in his gut was just his nerves kicking up about the fact Ryan would be hundreds of miles away in a month. Nothing bad was going to happen.

He opens his eyes and the stars greet him above the lights of the city, the car parked on the cliff overlooking it all. Michael glances over at Ryan, his features glowing slightly in the dashboard light, hand still in his. He hesitates for a moment, before pulling his hand from the older teen's, turning to look out the windshield again. "Michael, we should talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Michael says curtly, shaking his head. Why did he come this time? Why didn't he just stay in his room? He didn't want this night to end in an argument with him giving Ryan the cold shoulder. "We aren't even really a thing, Ryan, we both know that. Nothing was official."

Ryan sighs and Michael can see him running his fingers through his hair, strands falling out of the hold of the hair gel, and into his face. "I don't want to leave it like this," he says, and Michael wonders, for a moment, and nothing more, if Ryan feels that sinking feeling in his chest and dread in his stomach. Or maybe he just wants to tie up any loose ends before he leaves. "I don't want to leave for school with you like this." It was the latter.

Michael snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure," he says, turning his face to look out the window, watching himself in the car mirror. His freckles pop against his pale skin, his hair curly and unruly like always, brown eyes narrowed behind glasses. "Can... Can you just take me home? I shouldn't have come out if this it what it was going to be like."

There's a silence from his companion, before the keys click and the engine revs to life. Ryan doesn't say anything else as they pull back out onto the road, headlights still off and the clock reading '1:24'. Michael's stomach drops again, ignoring speed limit road sign with a bold '35 MPH' printed on the front, glancing at the speedometer on the dash. Fifty five. He sat for a moment, watching that number, before looking back out the window, his heart hammering in his chest. "I didn't mean it."

"What?" Ryan asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his head up as his arm props against the door.

"The... not coming out," Michael says. "I'm glad that I'm out here with you, Ryan, even if I act like a royal ass anytime we're together."

There's a soft chuckle that melts Michael's heart. "I kind of deserve it for not coming around for weeks," he says, humming softly. He didn't need to look at him to know that he was smiling. He heard him shift, feeling the car swerve a little as he switched hands. "I'm glad you came out here, too, Michael."

For a moment. Michael could feel the anxiety and dread in his system melt away, a warm flutter that spread up from his stomach replacing it, and he reaches over, taking Ryan's free hand, feeling his fingers against his palm. He looks over, brown eyes meeting blue, and he smiles a little, squeezing his hand.

The last thing he remembers is a car horn and an orange, hot, glow.

* * *

Its always different. But it's always the same.

The crickets are chirping, the air is still and calm, his shoes crunching against the grass and loose rocks on the concrete. There's the gentle hum of the motor, blue eyes that seem to glow against the darkness, the clock, the feeling of fingers in his. 11:55. Lips on his cheek. It never changes much, it's always the same.

Tonight, it was a bit different. When they park at the cliff, Michael's hands are in Ryan's hair, fingers breaking apart the strands from the gel, pulling him into a kiss and relishing in the feeling of those lips sliding against his own. Ryan moves across to Michael's seat, and Michael feels his back press against the door, feels hands at his hips, sliding his shirt up a little. He gasps against Ryan's lips, holding his hair tight in his fingers and dipping his head back, moaning quietly when he feels lips at his neck, before he shivers as the warmth against him his gone and Ryan is pulling back, slipping out of the dark leather jacket he was wearing. Michael's stomach churns uncomfortably, and he bites his lip. "I heard about you and that girl from school." Ryan freezes, his jacket resting on the back of his seat, and Michael regrets that. The words burn on his lip, leaving an acidic, sour taste in his mouth. It could have been different this time.

He expects Ryan to put his jacket back on, tell him to sit up and put on his seat belt, but instead he's met with Ryan's soft, warm hands in his hair, his lips fractions from his own and lingering there. "Yeah," he says quietly, and the feeling of his breath against his skin sends shivers down in his spine. "But, honestly, Michael, I can't stop thinking about you." In a moment, there's lips on his again, hands moving in his hair and Michael all but clings to Ryan, holding him like he was the rock that was going to ground him right now. Maybe it was different this time. Maybe.

Sweat still drenches his skin when they're done, panting and out of breath, fumbling to put their clothes back on. Ryan's hair is without hope, the gel the was holding it together gone and sticking to Michael's too hot fingers. He sighs and wipes it on his jeans, ignoring the ache that's already started to throb at the base of his back, the sting of bruises and bites along his hips and shoulders, his eyes watching Ryan as he slips back into his shirt and starts the car again. The anxiety that had pooled itself into his gut wasn't there, a burning feeling that, God, it had to be different now replacing it. It couldn't be the same. He waits until Ryan was on the road, before taking his hand, holding it tight and focusing on how his thumb rubbed over his skin idly. The sign still read thirty five, the clock at '1:24', speedometer at fifty five. Michael wonders what was going to happen. He sighs, looking over at Ryan, seeing those blue eyes staring right back at him, wild and large, but with a slight hazy look to them, and Michael heart skips a beat.

He knew why he couldn't stop coming with him, night after night, why, despite how he knew how this was doing to end, he kept coming back and hoping it'd be different. He knew their relationship was rocky, it was unstable, that Ryan was leaving for school and Michael would probably never see him again, that they weren't even a thing in the first place. Ryan didn't want to admit to his parents, and Michael just follows whatever he says without question, and he would lie to himself for a million lifetimes about what the truly felt for the man sitting next to him, that he knew it was just physical and nothing but raw desire. He knew he loves Ryan, despite everything else.

He was in love with Ryan Haywood.

His throat clenches around the words, and he just squeezes Ryan's hand, licking his lips. "You should watch the road," he tells him, fingers holding his tight. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

A smile crosses Ryan's face. "You're better to look at." Michael's heart aches around the longing in his chest, feels his ribs close into his lungs, his world imploding. He just wishes he knew if Ryan felt the same, wishes he could dig through whatever lust filled paradise they had been living in for months now, to see if the passion in his words was real, or just staged to keep Michael wrapped around his fingers. He wonders if it was fake, if he would still cling to it, just to have Ryan like this to himself, if only for a little while. He opens his mouth, ready to admit it, when bright lights of a headlight illuminate Ryan's features.

The smell of burnt rubber fills his nose.

* * *

There are storms clouds in the sky tonight, all lightning and dusty colors, and he watches out the window, one hand against his cheek and the other tight in Ryan's, he wonders if it'd rain. It was getting to be that time of the year, when the heat breaks for violent storms, only to clear up the next day like nothing had even happened. He knows it's fitting, in a way. Rocky weather leads to sunshine glossing over the mistakes; he could only really think of the man next to him.

They're not talking, not tonight. There's a comfortable, yet uncomfortable, silence between them, the only contact they have is their held hands. The anxiety and dread that had been plaguing Michael for days now was settling back into his gut, and it makes him forget about the night before, the hands on his skin and the sound of his gasps, how his back arched in pleasure.. Maybe that was all a day dream he thought up earlier when he was sitting in his room staring out the window at the people coming and going from his house, listening to the cicadas in the trees, feeling the warm breeze against his skin. He turns to ask Ryan, only to see his eyes staring back at him. "What?" he asks him quietly, feeling like if he spoke any louder, whatever was between them would shatter.

"You look troubled," Ryan says, and Michael pulls his hand away. "Anything you need to talk about."

Michael's brain buzzes with a million things; Ryan moving, their late night meet ups, how this relationship was destined to crash and burn from the beginning, but yet how neither of them wanted to recognize it. Rather live in ignorance than own up to when something was failing before their eyes. But he keeps his mouth shut, turning his eyes back to the window. There was thunder in the distance and a flash of lightning. "Why would it matter?" he asks, and he feels his chest clench. He saw Ryan smiling at him, blue eyes lighting up in the sunlight. "We both know what's going to happen in the end."

"Doesn't mean we don't have now," Ryan says softly. He doesn't want to deal with this.

"Big words from someone who's been leading me in circles for months," he says back bitterly. He didn't want this. But oh, he did. He feels Ryan's fingers on his again, before he moves to unbuckle his seat belt, throwing open the car door. He ignores Ryan's protest, holding his arms to himself as he storms away, wondering how far he could get on foot.

"Michael!" Ryan yells, and he turns. "Why are you-"

"Months, Ryan!" Michael yells, and he feels the sting of tears in his eyes, feels the ache in his chest, the churn in his stomach, the burn of a fire against the tips of his fingers. "We've been doing this for months! You've been pulling me around like a dog on a leash for months! You get all my hopes up with just a word, and you talk all sweet to me like I matter, like I'm something to you! But then you go back and sleep around with other people, and you won't put a label on me, and you won't just admit that this is fucked up!" He feels the blood rush to his face as tears fall down his cheeks. Ryan's face flashes before him again, sunlight shining in his hair, and a wide smile on his face, but its gone and the confused hurt Ryan stands before him again. "I don't understand why you couldn't have just told me to back off, to leave, instead of getting my hopes up day and day after night after fucking night!"

Ryan stands in silence, shaking his head. "Because I wasn't trying to get your hopes up, Michael," he says, his voice level and calm to contrast against Michael's emotional, frenzied words. It just pisses him off more. "You do matter to me, I don't know why-"

"Oh don't give me that shit," Michael snaps, laughing bitterly. "If I mattered so much, then why did you need that girl, why did you need anyone else if you thought I mattered so much?"

"That was a long time again, Michael, you can't-"

"No, it wasn't!" he yells.

Ryan runs his fingers through his hair, breaking the hold in the strands. This is all wrong. "I don't know what you want me to say, Michael."

Michael sucks in a breath, his heart racing in his chest and threatening to break out of his ribs. "I want you to apologize."

"Apologize?" Ryan asks, before sighing. "I'm sorry, Michael, about not giving you a label, and about that girl-"

"No, that's not what I want you to apologize for." There's a burn against his fingers again, the sound of car horns in his ears. "And we both know it."

Ryan looks at him, long and hard, before looking away, visibly uncomfortable. "I don't know-"

"I shouldn't have been in that car." The words are like led weights slamming into their chests. Michael can feel the air leave his lungs, and Ryan's face goes pale. Michael curls his fingers into his jacket. He  can smell the burn. "I shouldn't have been in that car with you that night. Neither of us should have been in that car that night."

"Michael that was-"

"No," Michael tells him, shaking his head, and his chest aches again. He sees Ryan's smile in the darkness, his eyes looking at him like nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. "You... You were a quarterback. You were going to LSU on a full ride football scholarship. You had the looks, and the money, and the charm..." he trails off, feeling more tears fall down his face, shaking his head again. He sees his lips mouth something, feels his hand in his his, sees the headlights. "You had the nice, fast car. And I was just the passenger. You never knew how to go slow, did you?" Ryan swallows, thickly, visibly, and Michael holds his arms closer to himself. "We both know how it ends," he tells him quietly.

Ryan nods, solemnly. "My headlights were off. I didn't see the stop sign. The truck didn't see us."

Michael hears his screams, the wheels screeching against concrete, sees Ryan's smile fades, and his hand leaving his to grab the wheel, swerve to avoid the collision, but he was just a bit late. Always just a bit too late. "And we've been doing this since June," he says, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. His head hurts. He feels the burn of fire against his skin. "Again. And again. We keep reliving it, and watching it happen." They were stuck. He was stuck. "We know how it ends, every night, but we just keep coming back. I just keep coming back. Because I can't let this end here know I... never told you."

Ryan's shoes crunch against the pressed down grass, and Michael curls in on himself more, feeling Ryan's hands on his arms, his forehead rest against his. His own skin felt hot. Ryan felt cold. "I know," Ryan tells him softly. "I know."

"I loved you, Ryan," he tells him softly, before letting out a soft sob. "I loved you so much, and I would have done anything on this Earth for you. But I was so busy simmering in jealous and confusion to nothing that none of it was just a joke, that it wasn't just hormones and us being stupid... But God, I was so stupid..." One of Ryan's hands are on his cheek, wiping away the tears that start falling. He could feel the rain start to drizzle around them. "I love you, Ryan... I still love you so much..."

There are lips on his forehead against his flattening curls. "I know, Michael," he hears him say, softly. "And I love you, too." He feels Ryan's arms around him, holding him close, and he pulls his own arms close to his chest as he cried, feeling the embrace around him as the cold rain soaks his clothes. He didn't know how long he stands there, sobbing into his hands and feeling Ryan's fingers petting his hair, but when he opens his eyes, Ryan is gone, his blue Thunderbird is gone, and he's standing along on the cliff, shaking and crying, wondering why it had to be Ryan. Why it wasn't him.

Michael only wishes it ended like he always thinks it will.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu)


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